


yes-man

by sausaged



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 11:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sausaged/pseuds/sausaged
Summary: Oikawa grins and Hajime is entranced by the whites of his teeth, illuminated by the dim lights of Las Vegas trickling in from a sliver of parted curtains. “We’re onvacation, Iwa-chan,” he repeats his words from this morning. “Live a little.”





	yes-man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveclouds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveclouds/gifts).



> happy bday yuxi!! <3 i was gunna write something that involved iwachan and oikawa dying of old age after living a happy life together... but then i realized that reading about death on your bday probably is... sort of... SO. here we are.
> 
>  
> 
> also, this work is unbeta'd and all mistakes are my own. i hope y'all enjoy!

 

 

 

If Hajime can use three words to describe his role in his and Oikawa’s relationship, they would be… steady, unchanging, and comfortable—very much like a rock, if Hajime would say so himself.

He is the one with the routine when he wakes up every morning, a stickler to his schedule, and a slave to normalcy.

Oikawa, on the other hand, is a whirlwind full of surprises, like a flowing river. From a kitten Oikawa saved on a whim (“Iwa-chan, he was _crying!_ ”), to signing them up for cooking classes on Wednesday nights (“Iwa-chan, we hardly ever see each other anymore! Let’s _bond!_ ”), to them trying out a new restaurant once every week (“Iwa-chan, I saw this ramen shop on a new way home that we should _totally_ try!”), Hajime seriously does not know what to expect from him next.

But if asked (after approximately five bottles of Asahi Super Dry), Hajime would grudgingly admit that without Oikawa, life would be just like lasagna without cheese; or rice balls without anything inside; or deep fried tofu without any sauce. _Tasteless_ , is the word he is trying to describe; dull, boring, a life not quite worth living. This leads him to entertaining a thought: what if Oikawa leaves and does crazy things with other people? The thought alone makes his stomach clench uncomfortably for a reason he is growing more and more aware of every day—especially in the past three years of living together in Tokyo. This thought alone also makes him do irrational things like saying yes to Oikawa when he really should be saying no.

And fucking Oikawa, the brat seems to know _exactly_ just that because he is more than determined to uproot Hajime’s comfortable routine with his random bouts of selfishness. He would try and try and try again until Hajime caves. And _no_ , Hajime does not cave because he cannot _refuse_ Oikawa—he only says yes because it is the _only_ way to shut him up (or that is what Hajime tells himself).

Which is why he is currently standing in the middle of Narita Airport with his luggage in hand, about to go on an impromptu trip to Las Vegas.

How did he let this get so out of hand?

It was only this morning when Oikawa had burst into Hajime’s room after Hajime’s morning run, waving an envelope in his hand with stars in his eyes and the biggest grin on his face. “Iwa-chan!” Oikawa had whisper-shouted excitedly because it was only six thirty in the morning, “I _won!!_ ”

And because it was only six thirty in the morning on Saturday, Hajime had leisurely turned towards Oikawa’s voice at the entrance of his room with his head stuck in the collar of his shirt and arms dangling awkwardly above him when he answered Oikawa, “… What?”

It turns out that not _only_ does Oikawa have the charms, the looks, and the smarts… he also has the luck, too, because the shopping district raffle that Oikawa had won a few weeks ago, and had since conveniently forgotten, had finally mailed their promise. _Very_ unfortunately though, nothing can be done about Oikawa’s shitty personality. Hajime has invested more than enough years of his life into correcting Oikawa’s pettiness and narcissism (even if Oikawa is prone into falling into spontaneous bits of self-deprecation) to no avail.

So, in order for them to be able to go on this weekend trip to Las Vegas, they had to leave immediately. “No” was not an option, as explained above: _Iwaizumi Hajime ~~cannot~~ does not say no to Oikawa Tooru_ for a multitude of reasons.

And at nine forty-five in the morning, after some haphazard packing, a phone call to their mothers, a phone call to Kuroo to take care of their cat ( _Dung Beetle_ ; Hajime is quite proud of the name—Dung for short because he’s a piece of shit ~~sometimes~~ most of the time and beetles are cool), a phone call to Hanamaki and Matsukawa for suggestions about what he can do in Las Vegas, and a phone call into his part-time job because his in progress degree in sports medicine doesn’t pay for itself, they are standing in the middle of Narita Airport, checking their flight number for the check-in counter.

Hajime snaps back into the present when Oikawa suddenly cups his elbow with an excited noise, pulling Hajime closer to the Delta Airline counters. “Come on, Iwa-chan! We gotta check-in!”

Another hour after, with a box of Tokyo Bananas and a box of Shiroi Koibito in his backpack (plus a burning sensation in his pocket), Hajime finds himself half dragging Oikawa towards the boarding gate with a grumble, “Just because you’ve made the national team, doesn’t mean you can spend your money so damn recklessly.”

“It’s a vacation! Live a little, Iwa-chan! Also, what if I get hungry on the plane?”

“ _Two_ boxes of snacks?”

Oikawa has the gall to look scandalous. “Iwa-chan, are you my _mom?_ ”

 

 

The thing with these cheap tickets that the shopping district can afford to put up for raffle is that they are riddled with connecting flights.

So Hajime is thanking the gods when this particular trip has only one connection— a connection they almost missed because Oikawa had a kerfuffle in customs about lifting his shirt for the border security to check his belt (“Iwa-chan, what are they asking me to _do?_ I don’t know why he’s grabbing my shirt!”) in Seattle.

And after a solid sixteen hours or so of travelling, they check into their single queen room in New York-New York at about eleven in the morning.

If someone told Hajime that he’d be on the other side of the world in about twenty plus hours after he had woken up that morning, he would’ve laughed in their face.

But fucking hell, _anything_ is possible with Oikawa.

The first thing Oikawa does (after flopping onto the bed) is peer outside to try to look at the rollercoaster tracks that decorated the hotel. The next thing he does is look down at the people walking along the Strip below, using his fingers to squish them as if they were ants.

“ _Hey,_ ” Hajime scolds, rolling their luggage into a corner and throwing his backpack down with a thud. “That’s bad karma.”

Oikawa rolls over onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows with an easy smile. “What’s the problem with a little more? I’ve spent all my good karma on you anyway.”

“Well,” Hajime almost stares for a good minute, not sure what to say to Oikawa’s claim. And when one does not know what to say, “Now that you’re in Vegas, what do you want to do?” he deflects with an eye-roll before stretching languidly and shoving a hand into his pocket, scratching at the side of his neck with a yawn.

“Hmm… the Coca Cola Factory and the M&M Store?”

Hajime blinks in surprise. “They have those here?”

Oikawa shrugs. “I looked it up while you were sleeping on the train. I also wanted to see if we can catch the pirate show in front of Treasure Island but that’s not until 7pm. Maybe we can hit up a buffet or something after?”

It is… doable, Hajime reasons with himself despite his whole body being thrown out-of-whack by travel and the fact that it is currently three in the morning back home, feeling high with a buzz of anticipation of not knowing what else Oikawa had in store. Hajime grins, emptying his backpack except for their valuables. “Let’s go, then.”

 

 

They hit up the Coca Cola Factory and the M&M Store as requested (Oikawa), before impulsively running into the Disney Store (Oikawa again). Hajime can feel his backpack get heavier and heavier with each store that followed a: “just a look around, Iwa-chan!”

They stop and ogle at the female dancers who climb into boxes of light that are fitted against a bar window to start their shift before catching each other and laughing because it’s their first time witnessing such a bold display of breasts with their nipples covered by plastered on tassels (“They’re literally not hiding _anything._ ”).

All-in-all, this impromptu trip to Vegas has not been a bad idea at all—like most of Oikawa’s ideas. Granted, there were some bad ideas in the past, but they were far too few in between the good to make Hajime reconsider his ~~inability to say no to Oikawa~~ coddling of Oikawa.

They ride the roller coaster on the New York-New York a few times after putting down their loot in the hotel room. The night view from outside of the rollercoaster was amazing, with the sea neon lights and noise of Las Vegas rumbling away at every dip of the ride—although the beauty does pale in comparison to the view from the Tokyo Sky Tree at dusk (Hajime may or may not be biased in his opinion).

The pirate show at Treasure Island is amazing, filled with fireworks and dance and music, even though Hajime could barely understand any of the dialogue. Hajime side-glances Oikawa at some point during the show and finds comfort in knowing Oikawa is in the same predicament as he is, unable to understand anything but entertained nevertheless (and Oikawa’s face, illuminated by the sparks of light from the fireworks in the show is, dare he say—probably never aloud—beautiful).

They have their dinner at the Bellagio buffet because Oikawa wanted to splurge (“I’ll pay for you, Iwa-chan! You’re a poor student without a scholarship!”).

An hour later, with stomachs full of Alaskan king crab and butter, they waddle back to New York-New York to wash up and settle in for the night in their queen-sized bed.

 

 

Being alone with someone you’ve known your whole life in a completely different country does weird things to you, Hajime realizes, especially when one has been actively realizing his feelings towards said someone. Hajime twiddles his toes, far too awake for someone who travelled all day, played all day, and ate at least half his weight at a buffet, looking up at the foreign ceiling of the hotel, idly contemplating the past twenty two years of his life with Oikawa. There are so many things he would not have done if it isn’t for the man who is lying beside him in bed right now. Hajime would have never picked up volleyball, dedicated his entire middle school and high school life to volleyball (and consequently to Oikawa), gone to the prefectural finals for volleyball, or picked sports medicine as his career. He also would not have learned how to cook, learned the number of ramen shops around the train station by heart, or learned the differences between Vinyasa, Ashtanga, and Bikram yoga (don’t ask).

Then, Hajime thinks of the few times he has ever said “no” to Oikawa (it was during that painful, angsty period of teenage Oikawa working himself hard enough to bust his knee and almost hit Kageyama) and wonders why he doesn’t say _no_ to Oikawa more (and thank small blessings in disguises, Oikawa has never been irrational with his requests, either).

Perhaps all he’s ever wanted is to say _yes_ to Oikawa— to enjoy and experience things together with Oikawa; to make anything and everything with Oikawa happen.

That thought scares him a little because Hajime has never thought of himself to be selfless enough to break from his own jam to make someone happy (and somehow, when it comes to Oikawa, he almost always does this instinctively and consistently).

“Are you awake?” Oikawa whispers conspiratorially, shifting to face Hajime so that Hajime can see the glints in his big doe-like eyes in the dark.

Hajime holds his breath for a moment before shaking his head, “… No.”

“There’s a famous twenty four hour diner along the Strip called Peppermill. Wanna go?”

“Are you fucking serious about eating again?” _What about your athlete diet?_ Hajime doesn’t say.

Oikawa grins and Hajime is entranced by the whites of his teeth, illuminated by the dim lights of Las Vegas trickling in from a sliver of parted curtains. “We’re on _vacation,_ Iwa-chan,” he repeats his words from this morning. “ _Live a little._ ”

 _Live a little_ is what Hajime tells himself when he slips on his shoes and follows Oikawa out the door, shoving a balled fist into his jeans pocket, his palm warm with an uncharacteristic (but quite commonly observed when he is hanging out with Oikawa) moment of impulse. _Live a little._

 

 

The interior of Peppermill is extravagant, like everything else in Las Vegas. Dark neon pink lights brighten the diner, with semi-circle styled booths lined with plush cushioning littered tastefully across the floor space and trees (fake?) lining along the backside of the booths. There is also a giant fire pit where a group of ladies are currently giggling around. This restaurant is so big and so… _busy_ that Hajime could not take it all in at once. The whole place feels absolutely surreal—as if the place is a time-zone itself—the twilight zone. A waitress who is bustling around the restaurant waves them to their seats and runs off to tend to a fairly drunk table of men a few seats across.

Oikawa drops himself into the booth and immediately props open the menu to look at all the English gibberish with a hum and a tongue poking out of his mouth. Hajime, who has already given up on trying to understand English, pulls out his phone in attempt to get onto the Wi-Fi for a translated version of the menu on the internet.

In the end, they each pick a random order and hope for the best, only to be blown out of the water when it arrives.

“Iwa-chan, it’s _huge_ …!”

Hajime gapes because that is all he can do, staring at his tower of food. His stomach growls a little and he feels betrayed because didn’t he just feed it half his weight in Alaskan king crabs just a few hours ago? And of course, the portions are standard American-size, something that the two Japanese men cannot seem to fathom even if one is a pro-athlete and the other lives a rigorous routine of working out and staying in shape after quitting sports.

They dig in, chatting and laughing and trying each other’s food in between their own bites.

“Iwa-chan, I really thought you were going to say no this time.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow, mouth full from a forkful of hash browns he had shoved in.

Oikawa’s eyes sparkle. “To coming to Vegas, you know? It was on such short notice and you just went with the flow.”

Hajime gives a noncommittal hum in reply, chewing his hash browns with extreme care (choking is not a good way to die), dangling his fork precariously on his forefinger and thumb idly. Hajime observes how even the dark neon pink lights of Peppermill seem to favour Oikawa’s face, the shadows of his lashes making them look longer and thicker—

“—and I think we could… you know?” Oikawa flails mid-ramble, “Maybe try it out for fun. Since we’ve never done it, yeah? That famous American singer Brittney Spears did it and it’s only about a thirty five minute walk away or so. We’ll never get a chance to do something like this again!”

Hajime looks up sharply, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. “Uhm, what?”

Oikawa tilts his head at an angle that he knows is cute. “You don’t want to try?”

Hajime looks around him. He’s in Las Vegas, ate a fantastic buffet, eating at a fantastic diner—experiencing all these new things that he wouldn’t have if he didn’t say yes to Oikawa.

So, being a complete pushover, Hajime gives a shrug. “Sure, why not.”

And Oikawa’s smile just about lit up the whole restaurant (and the world), brighter than all the artificial lighting inside Peppermill’s and perhaps rivalling the Sun itself.

Hajime wonders what he just agreed to.

 

 

About forty minutes later, Hajime finds out.

Sitting on a pink Cadillac at three in the morning in his jeans and a rumpled hoodie with a worn t-shirt, he stares with wide eyes at Oikawa, who is glowing at him in return.

A Little White Wedding Chapel is _not_ what he expected when he said yes.

Oikawa is bouncing with excitement, grinning from ear-to-ear as Elvis sidles up to them and starts singing.

They’re about to get married.

They’re about to get _married._

Granted that this is probably not legally binding or accepted in Japan (plus, only the city of Shibuya recognizes same-sex marriage), Hajime can feel his palms begin to sweat and a warmth radiating from his jeans pocket when Oikawa brushes his hand against his thigh to grab his hands with a shout of laughter.

“Iwa-chan, we’re getting married!” And then the world stops for a moment when Oikawa kisses him full on the lips with another whoop of joy.

The ceremony was nothing big and over in a jiff (he doesn’t know anything about Elvis and his songs other than how the King of Rock and Roll vaguely looks like)—but the image of Oikawa saying “yes, I do” has been completely burned into the back of his eyelids for eternity: Oikawa laughing, brown eyes wide with glitter in them, looking at Hajime as if he is the most precious thing on Earth while perched on a pink American muscle car.

Hajime wonders how he had looked like to Oikawa in that moment.

And even though they’re now married, they are not even holding hands on their way back to New York-New York, a treacherous hour and forty five minutes’ walk away from the chapel; just bumping shoulders with the back of their hands close enough to brush against each other once every few steps.

The adrenaline is wearing off and Hajime can hear his heart beat in his ears in a steady rhythm.

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

Oikawa breaks the silence first, sighing into the crisp night. “We did so many things in just a day.”

“Yeah,” Hajime nods, glancing down at their hands before shoving the other hand into his pocket.

“And I… uh… well, there’s this famous saying about whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas…” Oikawa fumbles quickly through his sentence, stopping their trek to bring both his hands up to his face. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”

“Well, you always sort of do… weird spontaneous things…?” Hajime scratches at his neck nervously, his lips tinging with the kiss just mere moment earlier.

Oikawa peeks at Hajime through his long slender fingers. “You don’t like it?”

Hajime shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Oikawa demands, dropping his hands from his face to cross his arms at his chest defensively and Hajime doesn’t understand the furious pout on his best friend’s face. “At first, I just wanted to see how far I can push you until you say no.” Oikawa softens just slightly. “I mean… you could’ve said no at any time. You could’ve said no to cooking lessons, to waltz classes, to hot yoga… to so many things. You don’t always have to go along with my whims.” Oikawa dips his head a little; his large brown eyes are looking up at Hajime from underneath a fringe of fluffy chestnut hair. It is a move that Oikawa does not do because he thinks he’s cute, but because he is insecure. During these times, Hajime wants to do anything to make Oikawa his petty and narcissistic self again. “… You didn’t have to marry me just because I asked.” Oikawa chokes on a watery laugh. “I mean, we’re not even dating.”

Hajime flashes back to the time he entertained a stray thought that involved Oikawa leaving him to do crazy things with a nameless faceless person conjured up by his lack of imagination. He also flashes back, with amazing clarity and speed, at all the most important hurdles of his life so far and notices how Oikawa has been beside him at every single event. That is when he knows what he has to say because all these years spent with Oikawa has nourished and nurtured his budding feelings that Oikawa must have planted in him from the start. Hajime then realizes that he’s never had a chance to escape from Oikawa since the beginning for he is a rock and Oikawa is a river, constantly overwhelming him, rushing over him, and weathering at all his hard edges until they were smooth and soft.

Oikawa is the cheese to his lasagna, his fillings in his rice balls, and his sauce for his agedashi tofu.

Hajime guesses he has nothing else to lose and rectifies the lack of hand holding by pulling a hand out from Oikawa’s defensive stance.

Oikawa jerks as if he’s been burned.

“Maybe I wanted to say yes to you.”

Oikawa stares, eyes alight with a sparkle of hope and perchance. “What do you mean…?”

“Maybe I want to spend the rest of my life with you, doing crazy things with you.” Hajime pulls his other hand out from his pocket and presses the burning sensation that has been there all day since their arrival at Narita Airport into Oikawa’s hand. “Maybe this was my intention from the start. Maybe you played into my plans.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen as he pulls his hands back, unfurling them to find a thin silver band in his palms.

“What…?”

Hajime blows out a long breath, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. “I asked Hanamaki and Matsukawa what there was to do in Las Vegas,” Hajime begins, staring up at the light polluted sky. “They laughed and asked me if we were eloping.” He chews on the inside of his cheek for a bit before continuing. “And well, I thought that wasn't a bad idea," because a nameless faceless stranger doing crazy things with Oikawa is _not_ a thought that Hajime wants to ever entertain again. "So, when you were looking at the snacks, I picked _that_ up,” he nods towards the ring in Oikawa’s palms because Oikawa makes him do irrational impulsive things that are unlike himself and yet, at the same time, very much like him when he is with Oikawa. “It’s not expensive or anything, but I thought you'd like it—” Hajime gets his breath knocked out of him when Oikawa promptly launches himself towards Hajime who catches him in surprise, struggling to catch his breath with Oikawa’s death grip snaking and tightening around his neck.

“Because you _thought I'd like it?_ ” Oikawa repeats in wonder, staring into Hajime's rapidly purpling face.

“I could’ve said no to so many things,” Hajime rasps, tapping frantically at Oikawa’s arms around his neck and Oikawa loosens his grip with a small pout and watery brown eyes. “But I’ve said yes to so many already.” And then, as an afterthought, “besides, dating is to get to know someone better before marrying them, right? I’ve already known you for twenty two years...” He mockingly tilts his head in a way that he's observed Oikawa do many times. “Don't you think that's more than enough?”

 

 

Another twenty hours or so later, they land back in Japan and Hajime decides on skipping his Monday classes.

“You know, whatever happened in Vegas doesn’t just have to stay in Vegas,” Hajime begins slowly, adjusting his collar to hide the few enthusiastic marks that Oikawa had left behind in his wake of destruction.

Oikawa adjusts his own collar consciously at Hajime’s action, left hand glinting with a new accessory on his ring finger in the morning sun, and eyes sparkling at Hajime’s indication. “What do you mean?”

Hajime takes Oikawa’s luggage, blatantly not making a single remark at Oikawa’s lack of refusal and less than prominent shuffle of discomfort as Oikawa adjusts his tote bag. “Whatever you want it to mean, Mr. Iwaizumi Tooru.”

Oikawa’s consequent blush is something that Hajime desperately tries to memorize for black mail material in the future.

 

 

_”Iwa-chan, let’s play volleyball together!”_

_“Okay. How do you play?”_

_”Iwa-chan, let’s go to Tokyo together!”_

_“You got accepted into Chuou already?”_

_“Iwa-chan, let’s live in Tokyo together!”_

_“I guess that makes sense. It’s more cost effective anyway.”_

_“Iwa-chan, let’s do hot yoga together!”_

_“Are you serious?”_

_“Iwa-chan, let’s learn waltz together!”_

_“What the fuck?”_

_“Iwa-chan, let’s get married!”_

_“Sure, why not.”_

 

 

Oikawa’s plans for the future have always involved Hajime without fail.

And for Hajime, who is a rock— steady, unchanging, and comfortable, that is something he has already worked into his routine (and the rest his life).

That is probably the real reason why Iwaizumi Hajime ~~can never~~ does not say no to Oikawa Tooru.

He is Oikawa's yes-man.

 _Or well..._ Hajime glances down at his own left hand where a thin silver band adorns his ring finger, fairly similar to the one he gifted Oikawa with a week or so ago... _his yes-husband._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
